


Absent Thee From Felicity

by enjolferre



Category: Hamlet - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, M/M, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-12
Updated: 2014-01-12
Packaged: 2018-01-08 11:04:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1131897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enjolferre/pseuds/enjolferre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Horatio gets to the point where he can't handle Denmark anymore and snaps, and Hamlet and Ophelia have to talk him down from it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Absent Thee From Felicity

**Author's Note:**

> Written for shakespeareshoplifting on Tumblr.

Horatio was tired. He was tired of Denmark and tired of mourning and tired of histrionics, and he was especially tired of being alone and unloved. He was in a foreign state, missing school that he and his brother had to sell their childhood home to pay for, and he had nothing to show for it but a higher cold tolerance and an unrequited love. He had only been in Elsinore’s wretched Hell for about two months, and he was already trying every possible method to get out of it. He had even begged Hamlet to run away with him, but the prince wouldn’t stand for it. The prince rarely stood for anything these days.

Horatio was finally at the end of his rope by the time Hamlet finished hosting his grand scheme of a play for Claudius. As his friend left him alone to attempt to kill the king, the scholar finally snapped. Everything in him just fell apart, and he saw no option but to slide a dagger into his pocket and try to remember how to get past the guards without being caught and questioned. He couldn’t do it in the castle. He wouldn’t put Hamlet through that. He loved him too much to force him to walk in on his best friend’s corpse hanging from the rafters. But Horatio was not alone as he wandered through the palace.

“What brings you out so late, sweet Horatio?” Ophelia’s soft voice hit him and made him jump. “My apologies. I meant not to startle you.” He took a deep, shaky breath and turned around to face the woman that was loved by the man he loved. He hated himself for being unable to hate her. If the good must be innocent, she was the best human in Denmark.

“Think not of it, my lady.” He offered a quick bow and tucked some hair behind his ear. “I had something that needed to be done before Prince Hamlet returned.” She stepped closer to him and frowned, glancing down at his pockets.

“Why do you bring a dagger? Do you not trust us Danes not to harm a peaceful Austrian scholar?” Horatio’s eyes widened behind his spectacles and he grabbed the handle of the knife defensively. She calmly took another step forward and took his wrist in her hand, and he allowed her to slide his sleeve up. “Horatio, you know the lord does not approve.”

“I believe in no lord but Lord Hamlet.” His voice cracked on the prince’s name. “And your god hates that as well. I am already doomed for Hell, dear maid, whether I end my torture myself or allow another to do me that favor.” She shook her head and led him to her chambers, pausing to whisper to her servant girl to fetch Prince Hamlet at once and that it was quite dire. Horatio obeyed weakly, too shattered to do anything but what he was told to do. “Why do you delay my departure?”

“You are here on behalf of Hamlet, are you not?” Horatio nodded as she sat beside him on the bed and wrapped her arms around him. “So you are not to leave without his permission.” A shaky sigh escaped the scholar. “He shall arrive here soon, and if he gives his permission, I will make no further attempt to save you. But you will make no such effort without his permission.” She smiled at him and ran her fingers through his hair. “That is logical, no? You enjoy logic, sweet, lovely, strong Horatio.”

But Horatio was a broken man, and broken men cannot be reconciled so easily. He sat up and made a weak effort to get her arms off of him before reaching into his pocket and pulling out the dagger. “This is no time to follow social convention, dear Ophelia. I must take my leave. Please tell the prince that there is a note addressed to him and one addressed to my brother on my bedside table.” She grabbed his wrist and wrapped her fingers around it so he couldn’t access it with the dagger.

“Tell me what the note says.” He gaped at her, confused, and she sighed. “The note to Hamlet, please, Horatio. If you are going to die in my chambers, I would like to know why.”

“I love him.” His voice was a barely audible whisper, and when she reached for his opposite hand, he simply let the dagger slip through his fingers and clatter on the ground. “I love him, though I know it can never be requited or acknowledged. He loves you. You are a smart match for him, and I wish you the best. You are a good woman. You deserve him, Ophelia, and that is the highest compliment I can give another person.” She took his hands and let him cry into the shoulder of her dress. She was saved from answering by Hamlet’s entrance into the chambers.

The prince sat on the bed on Horatio’s other side and pulled the man into his arms and tangled his fingers in his hair, as a parent would with an injured child. Ophelia allowed Hamlet to take control of the situation. “Prithee, what it the matter with you?” Horatio caught his breath and looked up at Hamlet.

“May I take my leave, good my lord?”

“To where? Home to Austria, or back to continue your studies at Wittenberg?”

“Neither, my lord.” Horatio took a struggling breath and wiped his eyes and adjusted his glasses. “I wish to leave this mortal coil. I will do it outside by the river, if you permit it, and will leave no trace. I would not even ask you for a funeral to escort me to Hell. All I need is your permission, merciful prince.” Hamlet shook his head and held him closer.

“Never believe it.” The prince sighed and held the scholar closer to himself. “As thou art a man, Horatio, I will not let you turn to self slaughter. You have no such permission.” Horatio let out a strangled sob, and Hamlet rocked him gently in his arms. “Good, sweet Horatio, why must you ask this of me? What torments you so horribly that you see no other means of salvation?”

“Love, Hamlet. The poor boy is in love.” Ophelia chimed in and rubbed Horatio’s back gently to try to reassure him.

“Surely love cannot be that difficult to endure.” Hamlet nudged Horatio a bit playfully. “Who is the lovely maid that’s squandered your attentions away, my scholar?” Horatio lunged down to grab the dagger from the floor, but Ophelia gasped and kicked it away while Hamlet’s strong hands gripped Horatio by his hips and secured him to the prince’s lap. “Horatio, please, be calm!”

“There is no lovely maid, no darling dame, not even a charming lady of the night.” Horatio’s voice was soft and weak again, but it had an edge to it that suggested that he was by no means any calmer than he had been before. “Only a man content to torture me through innocent words and oblivious caresses.” The prince’s eyes widened as Horatio’s drifted to the arms so firmly wrapped around his waist.

“Oh god, Horatio-” Hamlet’s voice was still strong, but not quite as rehearsed as it had been before. “Good, sweet, lovely Horatio-”

“Please, sweet prince, do not try to save me with tender words meant for ears that are not mine. My torment is completely my own. I deserve nothing from you.” Hamlet looked at Ophelia for permission, then leaned down to press his lips to Horatio’s.

“I love you, Horatio, my closest friend and trusted adviser.” Horatio shook his head.

“I need none of your pity. I pity myself plenty.”

“Horatio, please, listen to him.” Ophelia made eye contact with Hamlet, then left silently after squeezing the scholar’s hand one last time.

“My beloved Horatio, please, absent yourself from felicity a while and listen to me.” The scholar weakly rested his head on the prince’s shoulder. “I love you. Perhaps not yet as a romantic interest, though I am certain that will come with time.” He pressed another gentle kiss to his cheek. “You know that I will need to keep my relationship with Ophelia, though I love you. She will understand, but the public would not, and, as you cannot bear me sons to take the throne, I cannot marry you and make you my queen.” He pressed their lips together gently and sighed in relief as he felt that Horatio was shaking less.

“You would marry me if not for that I am a man?” Horatio’s eyes were hopeful behind his spectacles, and Hamlet smiled and nodded.

“Lovely Horatio, I would follow you to the grave.”

“As would I, sweet prince. As would I.”


End file.
